


He Would Do, She Supposed

by secace



Category: Arthurian Literature - Fandom, Arthurian Mythology, Yvain ou le Chevalier au Lion | Yvain the Knight of the Lion - Chrétien de Troyes
Genre: Gen, i think about the fact that gawain and luned hook up in kotl a lot, so this happened, spoiler alert they dont, this is. mlm wlw solidaritylol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:13:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23673658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secace/pseuds/secace
Summary: He was handsome, they all said. Luned guessed so. Examining the planes of his face and comparing them to the average, she supposed it must be true. He wasn't very tall- Owain was taller, she noted, almost peevishly, because she had grown very fond of him, and all she'd heard since the King and his retainers arrived was how favourably the comparison between them tilted to Gawain.
Relationships: (but its very background), Gawain/Lancelot du Lac (Arthurian)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	He Would Do, She Supposed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Reynier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reynier/gifts).



He was handsome, they all said. Luned guessed so. Examining the planes of his face and comparing them to the average, she supposed it must be true. He wasn't very tall- Owain was taller, she noted, almost peevishly, because she had grown very fond of him, and all she'd heard since the King and his retainers arrived was how favorably the comparison between them tilted to Gawain. 

She hadn't considered it the first time she had been to court, remembering only that he had been kind to her when the rest of them had laughed at how unmannered she was, an awkward slip of a girl. No one would call her such now, but still she was considering him. He had a nice laugh, that she would grant, which he used liberally, leaning into to catch a comment of the man sitting next to him.

Not deep in his cups but shallow in them, already, at least, from the cheerful flush on his face and how funny he seemed to find everything his friend was saying.

“There are many handsome knights here,” Laudine said to her, offhanded, except that the comment was made under her breath, “In a good mood, and the only thing more joyous that one wedding is two.”

“Joyous in the political sense?” 

Laudine shrugged, “I suppose, but I meant I want you to be happy. And you would be safer, with someone to defend you.”

Owain would defend her, he was her friend. But that wasn't what her mistress meant. So she scanned the faces around the table. Landed back on Gawain. After a moment, he caught her eye, a rare moment not absorbed in what she imagined had to be a fascinating conversation, from how he was acting. He inclined his glass at her, so slight she almost missed it. His friend did- another great knight, she knew, because she made it her job to know things, but not one she cared about.

He would do, she supposed.

* * *

They should have gone to his bedroom, because as the second highest ranked person there, he had gotten one of the nicest sets of rooms in the keep. But hers were closer, and for some reason it seemed imperative to have it begun quickly, more from fear of second guessing herself than and sense of urgency. Gawain was very polite. She wondered if that was what was so charming about him, that he sensed her inexperience and was being very cautious. 

They were seated close, but not quite in an embrace, on her bed. No clothing had, in so far, been shed, and she was purposely not examining her dread at the prospect. He was kissing her, and Luned was trying to enjoy it. The physical sensation of it oscillated between odd and sort of pleasant, if she didn't open her eyes or think about what was supposed to come next. His hand brushed her arm, and she pulled back, suddenly, more on instinct than by choice.

Gawain gave her a slightly quizzical look. Probably this usually went very differently, if what was said of him was to be believed.

“I- This isn't. This isnt working,” she heard herself saying, and realized it was true. He shifted back, and she breathed out with relief.

“You want to stop?”

She nodded, face burning.

“All right,” he said, no trace of bitterness. But Gawain rose to leave and a flash of panic ran through her.

“Wait,”

He stopped, studied her face, seeming, contrary to his behaviour earlier, completely sober.

“Would you- for my honour- stay here tonight and let people come to their own conclusions? I can help you, in return,” Luned offered, and he knew, from what Owain had said, that she was telling the truth.

“Unorthodox, but all right. And I don't need a reward, it's not exactly an arduous undertaking,” Gawain grabbed a pillow from the bed and flopped down on the couch across the room. It was her favourite pillow, but she reminded herself that he was being very kind and she could let it go.

“You swear you won't tell anyone?”

“Yes, I swear I won't tell anyone,” he answered, with less gravity than she would have liked, “and if anyone asks, I do have a reputation to maintain, so be laudatory if you can manage it.”

“Sure, I'd hate to damage your reputation,” Luned agreed, unsure if he was making a joke.

He chuckled dryly. So it was a joke.

“Good, at this point my reputation is all I have in that arena.”

“Oh?” 

Embarrassment was hardly enough to quench old habits, that the more one knew was always the better. 

He grinned, and to her now it seemed closer to a cover than a genuine expression of mirth, “you don't want to hear me complain. What about the Lady Luned? Is she in love with another, pining away? Or not interested in that sort of thing. Or is it another more exotic cause?”

It was hard to tell from him, what was mockery and what was a genuine attempt at friendliness, all of it tangled together in the roguish persona she was beginning to suspect was just that. But he was waiting for an answer as if it was real.

“Not interested, I think. In men, maybe in general,” a rare honest answer. 

Gawain nodded, “huh. I suppose that must be a comfort to my pride,” he looked curiously around the room, lit dimly by a candle by the bedside and moonlight streaming in through the wide window.

“Do you have anything to eat in here? Or, better, to drink? I really should have gotten more drunk when I had the chance.”

She shook her head, still sitting up in bed, then realized he may not be able to see that in the low light, “no, sorry.”

Luned paused a beat, but curiosity, as it always did for her, won out, “I had thought you had already indulged in it from how you seemed, but now less than half an hour later you're utterly sober.”

Realizing there was nothing to eat, drink, or otherwise entertain himself with, Gawain stifled a sigh and lay back, resigned to conversation.

“Was I making a great fool of myself, then?”

“No,” she said carefully, pulling back the blanket and laying down herself, to buy time for a diplomatic answer, “it just seemed as though you and your companion's conversation must have been extremely engaging, or at least very funny.”

“..Ah,” he said after a moment, and Luned wished she could see his face, could not imagine what expression might be upon it, till he continued, “well, let's say I had my own reasons to want distraction with a stranger tonight.”

She blinked, taking a moment for it to sink in, “oh.”

“Good night, Lady Luned,” he said, ending the conversation.

* * *

There were sideways glances the next morning, which she ignored, and jealous ones, which she pretended to ignore but was privately amused by, and a few- mostly older women and her own friends in the household, who seemed pleased for her. Laudine was one of them, giving her a raised eyebrow and a slight, crooked smile from across the hall, which Luned returned.

Arthurs men didn't stay for long, and she didn't speak with Gawain often except in passing, or when both of them were in a group, usually with Owain. But she did pay more attention, after that night, when she wasn't thinking about how the results of it related to herself. Which she was, often.

But she sought him out to say goodbye, the morning they were to set off- this time with Owain staying behind. He was saddling his horse, ostensibly. Usually a squire's job, but from what she'd heard the animal was more demonic than equine and no one else was safe to tend it. What he was actually doing was looking out across the courtyard.

She had learned everything about his companion from the feast, because she made it her business to do that. He was fairly new to Arthur's court, but already making a name for himself. A Frenchman, from Benoic. But her assistance, or involvement of any nature, in the matter had been categorically refused, so she merely filed the information away. 

“I think I should tell you that you are staring at him,” she said, “for your reputation.”

“Lady Luned,” he tore his eyes away reluctantly, “what will I do without you to remind me of my improprieties.”

“Flounder.”

He hummed, “it's very likely. Hey, look after my cousin alright? I know you will, but I had to say it.”

“Naturally,” she responded, “and good luck, with- good luck.”

“Oh, haven't you heard?” He smirked, “I'm Sir Gawain, the knight of maidens, I don't need luck. I'm sure you're aware of my reputation.”

“Aware that it's all you have left,” she stepped back as he finished fiddling with the various straps of the saddle and mounted in one smooth practiced motion.

“Goodbye, Lady Luned,” He said over his shoulder, laughing, something between bitterness and good natured self deprecation.

“Goodbye, Sir Gawain,” she echoed to his retreating form.

And later, someone would comment about how much she must be missing him, with all the lewd implications, glints of jealous mockery in their eyes. Luned admitted privately, to her surprise, that though it was not in the way the speaker had intended, she would sort of miss him.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> uh gay rights i guess. anyway. i didn't intend for lancelot to be here sorry rey lol


End file.
